timelinezero
12-30-2009, 02:08 PM
Tunneling through, I've dug in, the rain slants in, wintering, weathering, my clothes drenched, wrenching-writhing, inside, all in time with the waltzing waters pooled together beneath me, beat, and tarred, and feathered, alive in the trenches
Remember when...? That never happened.
I walked in, and by walk I mean I dreamed, of the fates weaving me a warning
should have felt it melt, a ball of wax, wet and running out of your chest
and ink pressed on paper, with the stare of a stranger glancing over your shoulder
you've bitten down, and burst the pen
"Now, what color were you before?"
And once more there's a scaly feeling taring at the recess of my throat
autumn notes fill the loose leaves, and book sleeves remind me only of you
and everyday you spit and strain, through dendrite delusions, and synapse bursting symphonies of subterfuge in your brain
in attempt to remember the lines, and shape of her face
breath pulses against the pane, the paint chipped windowsill, one eye staring down the winters whitest wind, and like a thief in the night, a pale horse rides, to catch us unawares again
Always so unawares...
"Things look swell, things look great, Gonna have the whole world on a plate. Starting here, starting now Honey, everything's coming up roses."
Remember when...? That never happened.
I walked in, and by walk I mean I dreamed, of the fates weaving me a warning
should have felt it melt, a ball of wax, wet and running out of your chest
and ink pressed on paper, with the stare of a stranger glancing over your shoulder
you've bitten down, and burst the pen
"Now, what color were you before?"
And once more there's a scaly feeling taring at the recess of my throat
autumn notes fill the loose leaves, and book sleeves remind me only of you
and everyday you spit and strain, through dendrite delusions, and synapse bursting symphonies of subterfuge in your brain
in attempt to remember the lines, and shape of her face
breath pulses against the pane, the paint chipped windowsill, one eye staring down the winters whitest wind, and like a thief in the night, a pale horse rides, to catch us unawares again
Always so unawares...
"Things look swell, things look great, Gonna have the whole world on a plate. Starting here, starting now Honey, everything's coming up roses."